


Aftermath

by Hideyori



Series: Garth's story... [1]
Category: Pathfinder RPG
Genre: Gen, Grimdark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideyori/pseuds/Hideyori
Summary: Fantasy story based on my gameworld.  Sole survivor of attack by the 'Malg'.





	1. Aftermath

The splashing of water was the first sound that came to his ears. Then he heard the rustling of trees, the odd click and twitter of a bird but the splashing of water was the loudest.

Garth opened his eyes a little and he saw light, hazy bright through leaves. He wondered briefly if this was death? He knew it wasn’t because he hurt.  A lot. His whole right side was one throbbing pain. He attempted to take a deep breath, his lungs rattled and he coughed up water. His head pounded but he forced himself to flip over onto his hands and knees.  He gasped through clenched teeth and just tried not to move for a few moments.

He fully realized then that he was still alive. This despite the attack by the Malg. Wet, bruised, and on his hands and knees but alive. A small smile crept onto his face.  A wet and chill wind blew across the creek bank just then and Garth’s smile faded as quickly as it had come.

He might be alive but staying that way was another question.  Grimacing at the pain, he forced himself to stand, leaning against the nearest tree trunk.  He took a moment to pull up his damp shirt and see the damage.  His side was covered in one massive bruise, blue and purple covering him from armpit to waist.  It was tender to the touch as he learned the hard way.  Nothing seemed to be broken.  His ankle though, that was a different matter.  It was covered in blood and most of the boot was torn and shredded from the teeth of the Malg. It hurt but he could still move it.   Walking on it was going to be painful but he didn’t have a choice.

He began to look around as he realized how bleak his situation was.  He was on his own, in woods with who knew how many of the Malg stalking about.  He was not sure exactly where he was but knew he could follow the creek.  Looking at where the sun was and the amount of dew on the ground he figured the creek flowed south.  North was the deep woods and eventually the mountains.   That was where the Malg came from so south was a good choice.

Garth looked himself over and realized he was not going to be able to make the trek south as he was.  He cursed and let his shoulders slump.   His coat was in the barn, his axe not far from it.  He’d been on the edge of camp pissing when the Malg attacked. That was the only reason he was alive, if he had been in the barn he would have been overwhelmed when the charged in.  Instead, on the edge, he only had one find him.   Garth ran at the first sight of it and it chased him, closing the distance between them quickly.   Garth tripped on a tree root and went down, the Malg grabbed his foot and pulled.   Scrambling for something to hold onto, his hand wrapped around a rock.  As the Malg pulled him in Garth turned and struck with the rock with all of the strength years of cutting wood had provided him.  With a sickening crunch the Malg screamed and went slack. Garth scrambled away as he heard the bleating of other Malg nearby.   Only thing he could do was get away from the small village, so he turned and ran until he collapsed.

Now he was going to have to go back to the village in order to find anything that was going to let him survive in the woods.  He did not think anyone would be alive there.  The Malg did not leave anyone behind when they raided.


	2. No survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garth's story continues....

It was raining when Garth found the lumber camp.  Rain fell hard, making his hair stick to the side to his face and soaking his clothes completely. He leaned against a moss covered tree and his heart was pounding as he looked out toward the camp.  There were two large bodies near the blackened fire pit in the center of the cleared area, some burned sticks and ash scattered around it.  They lay motionless and even from this distance Garth could tell they were Malg.

He had to be quick in case there were any left around.   Garth knew he got lucky in his escape the night before.  He was going to need things from the camp if he was going to survive a trek south.  Casting his eyes about the camp he saw no movement.   Scuttling out from the trees, he did his best to make no noise.

Garth slid up to one of the simple shacks that made up the camp.   He listened near the entrance, the leather that hung down as a door still in place.   Looking at the ground he saw blood smeared but couldn’t tell if it was going in or out.  Taking a deep breath he lifted the leather and slid into the shack.  It was very dark, his eyes not adjusting to the gloom as fast as he wanted.   He began to sweat and his heart beat faster, his mind racing with the surety that a monster was in the dark with him.

His eyes finally adjusted to the dark and he slowed his breathing as he realized no one was in the room with him.    He noticed dark puddles and his mind finally let him realize it was most likely blood.   Yet there was no body.

Garth stayed alert as he began to move about the shack as quietly as he could.   Looking for anything he might use for his trek through the wilderness.  Under the rickety bed he found a back pack.   He put any scraps of food he could find in it.  A shirt that looked to be about his size and not too dirty he also took.

Deciding to push his luck, Garth listened and then slipped out the door and onto the next shack.  He repeated his listening and not moving tactic at this new building.   Satisfied that nothing was inside he entered.   Again he found no bodies and surprisingly no blood.   Again he made little noise as he looked for anything more he could use.

A few minutes later he had found a fair amount of food and a dagger.  He tried to look under the bed like the other shack but something blocked him.   It took him only a few seconds to realize it was a wood chest, made to fit perfectly under the bed.   He slid it out and found it was locked.   He thought about leaving it but he was desperate.    Garth knew he could open it but it might make too much noise.  There was no way he could carry the box and still move fast.   Realizing he had no choice and with a little of guilt of taking what was not his, he pulled the dagger out that he found and started slowly prying the hinges out of the wood.

Pausing every minute or so to listen, he worked on removing the hinges.   It was hard wood though, and well made.   Garth did not know how long it took him to remove the hinges but he was convinced at every sound that a group of Malg were going to rush in at him. Finally he removed the last hinge and lifted the lid.  Garth was not sure what he was going to find but once he saw what was inside his mouth hung wide open.

Neatly folded in the box was what looked to be a suit of armor.   A mix of leather and chainmail.   Fine gloves to cover the hands.   On top of this laid a sword in a well worn scabbard. It took Garth only a moment to decide he had no choice.  Whoever had owned these things was most likely dead and while he had no training it would definitely make Garth feel better about his chance at survival.

His luck held and the armor fit him, maybe a little loose in the shoulders but that was better than being too tight.  Buckling the sword on as quietly as he could, Garth then stuff the remaining clothes into the backpack and slipped it on his shoulders.  Taking a deep breath he listened at the door then slid out and made his way back to the woods, his trip south had begun.


	3. A misty hilltop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garth continues his journey

Damn the mist. It is as if it gets in your eyes, then you can’t see much further than a few feet. It seems like it then gets in your ears, then you can’t hear anything or when you do you can’t tell where it is coming from. Finally, it even seems to get in your nose, then you can only smell dampness and wet. Yes, damn the mist and especially when you are out in the woods, all alone, and trying not to walk into a camp of Malg.  
Garth crossed the Blackwater the day before at a little rocky ford all the woodsman knew about. It was the 3rd day since he had left the lumber camp, heading south. He hadn’t seen anyone but that didn’t surprise him as he didn’t know where anything was. He knew how to go south only because of where the sun was every day. And the Blackwater River.  
He was nervous. Too nervous to have made any fires for his camp each night. That first night he tried to sleep in a tree thinking it was the best way to avoid a Malg in the night. Worked fine until he nearly feel on his head when he tried to roll over in the night. After that he stayed on the ground and just picked places with lots of underbrush that he hid under.  
After a week of travelling like this he wasn’t sure he was travelling directly south. He tried to go by the position of the sun during the day but the heavy trees made that more difficult than he expected. Maybe trying to find some high ground and look to see if he can get his bearings would be a good idea.  
It was late in the afternoon when Garth finally found a few hills. Looking up at them he could see that there were not as many trees near the top. He hoped this would let him get a good view. Slowly he began to climb, the hill getting steeper and more rocky as got higher up.  
As bad as he wanted to get to the top of this hill, Garth didn’t rush. He was still worried about the Malg so he went slowly and as quietly as he could. He was convinced every sound carried for miles and there were Malg looking for him specifically. Take a step and his borrowed armor made noise or the scabbard of the sword would scrape on a large rock. Every few minutes he would stop and listen to make sure nothing was charging through the woods for him.  
Finally he made it to the top, standing up and stretching his back out he took a good look around. The hill top was bigger than he expected. Some stone ruins were in the center, remains of some long lost frontier fort more than likely, overgrown with moss and other plants, slowly reclaiming what was once theirs.   
Garth moved a few feet to a flat rock and took a seat. He took a sip from his waterskin and just looked out at the horizon. The sun was setting over the horizon in front of him. Nothing but tree tops as far as he could see. Thinking back on the last few days he realized he was just lucky to be alive. People just did not survive a Malg raid yet here he sat, in the middle of the woods, on a hill, watching the sunset.   
He was not sure how long he just sat and when some noise caught his attention. It came from the other side of the hill. He listened for a few moments and heard the grunting and stomping of Malg.  
He jerked to a standing position, eyes wide and his mind racing, when he saw two figures move to the ruins. They had not seen him and from his brief look they did not seem like Malg. Before he could give it too much thought a half dozen Malg came into view, right where the two figures had come from.   
A blond head came up from the ruins and a bow string twanged. One of the monsters let out a roar as an arrow appeared in its shoulder. Garth stood frozen, as if he was watching from far away as one of the Malg tried to scramble over the ruins. A mace came up and smashed into the head of the Malg sending it falling back unto its companions. At the same time, the archer shot an arrow at close range into the face of the creature it had already shot.  
From a near side of the hill another handful of Malg came rushing up, intent on the ruins and the two people inside them. Before he know what he was doing, Garth and drawn his sword and was running toward the ruins. Sweat coated his palms and his body vibrated with nervous energy. He slid around a large boulder and the Malg were all around him, more surprised than Garth himself it seemed.   
Without thinking he started fighting and the hilltop filled with plunging beasts and Garth’s weapon, flashing in the dappled light of the sunset. Instinct guided him as the sword darted about to block, chop, and stab at the Malg. He parried a cruel club yet the tip glanced from his shoulder and he gave out a grunt of pain. Before the monster could swing again an arrow glanced from his back and he turned around shrieking in pain. Garth didn’t hesitate and stabbed his sword through the creatures throat.  
The hill became a mass of stomping hooves, flying leaves, and blood. Garth sliced his way through it, his eyes large and his mouth locked into a grimace. He ducked as a stone axe swung at his head and then spun, swinging his sword with two hands, slicing deep into the side of the Malg. It fell with a grunt.  
A huge Malg, its head sprouting long, black, curved horns that swept up and behind it, stepped toward Garth. Its long snout capped by its mouth, large sharp teeth showing, gaped opened and it let loose a cry of pure rage. Spittle flew in all directions and all of the rest of the creatures stopped and gave space to what was obviously their leader. The scraggly, matted beard that hung from the chin showing pieces of bone that had been braided into it. Its big hands gripped a rough piece of a tree branch that was topped with a rusted steel ball covered in sharp spikes.  
Garth stood panting, sword gripped tight in his hands. Briefly he wondered how he went from simple woodsman to facing off against a seven foot Malg in less than a week. He gripped the sword tightly and waited for the death he had been cheating.  
He heard whispered chanting coming from behind him and what felt like a hand lightly touching his shoulder. None of the Malg seemed to notice and Garth didn’t take his eyes off the leader in front of him. He couldn’t make out the words but he felt calmer just hearing the tone. No sooner had he realized that when the Malg charged forward, his large club swinging in a great arc for his head.  
Garth ducked and stepped to his left, using the momentum of his movement to add to the swing of his sword. He felt the vibration up his arms as he connected, the creatures scream of pain following quickly. Spinning, he brought the sword up in front of him and saw the Malg turn, dragging one leg. Garth realized he had cut deeply into its thigh.   
A moment of quiet fell upon the hilltop, only the heavy breathing of the Malg and his own heaving lungs to be heard. It was just a brief moment but Garth thought it was oddly beautiful. It was broken by the sound of a horn, three quick notes. The Malg all turned in the direction of the call, their crude weapons waving menacingly at the unseen foe.   
The horned leader did not hesitate but turned in the opposite direction and began a limping run. His movement did not go unnoticed and in the blink of an eye all the Malg had joined him in running away. Somehow, Garth lived.


End file.
